


One Day Out There

by ardentintoxication



Category: Aladdin (1992), Beauty and the Beast (1991), Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Angst, Canon Character of Color, Community: disney_kink, Crack Crossover, Crack Pairings, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Domestic Violence, Drama, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Racism, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentintoxication/pseuds/ardentintoxication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Quasimodo finds the Genie's lamp, he has just one wish. But every wish has its consequences, and every decision has its price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part the First

**Author's Note:**

> Over at disney_kink, I got a prompt for a Belle/Quasi based on [this pic](http://nandomendonssa.deviantart.com/gallery/6347010#/d2n10ks) featuring Quasi with Aladdin's lamp. To say it got away from me would be an understatement.

When Quasimodo found the old lamp in a junk bin in the bell tower, he didn’t think much of it. He had plenty of lanterns already, and he had daylight longer than anyone else in the city, being so high up. But looking at it in the fading light, he thought that he could maybe use it to make miniature bells. He had wooden ones already, but metal ones would look and sound more like his real ones.  
  
But first he needed to polish it.  
  
He’d started to rub it on his shirt when there was a loud bang, several showers of sparks, and a lot of smoke.  
  
Also, a blue man.  
  
That was important.  
  
“Good grief!” said the blue man, apparently ignoring him and wide-eyed stare. “Do you know how long I’ve been in there? Yeah, couple hundred years isn’t so bad compared to a few thousand, but  _man_ , do you know what it does to your  _back?_ Seriously, now, look at this!” He showed Quasi a back much more crooked than his own – one that curved in and out like ripples in a pool of water. “Hold on a sec,” instructed the blue man, reaching backwards to grasp his heels. And then he was floating  _in the air_ , spinning in a circle like a wheel, and by the time he touched back down, his back perfectly straight, Quasi was staring at him, his mouth open in pure, unadulterated shock as he crossed himself over and over.  
  
“Whatsa matter?” asked the man. “Honestly, you’d think you’d never seen a genie before!”  
  
“A what?”  
  
“A genie. You know, hocus pocus, three wishes, all your wildest dreams coming true?”  
  
“N-n-no, I’ve never seen one before.” Something occurred to him. “You mean, like witchcraft?”  
  
“Witches?” snorted the genie, assuming the appearance of a woman with a pointed hat. “Pal, witches  _try_  to be as good as me.”  
  
“You’re not… you’re not a demon, then?”  
  
“Naaaah. Sure, some people think I might be, but then, depends on the genie, doesn’t it? I knew this one guy-”  
  
“Wait. You said three wishes. I get three wishes?”  
  
“Well, sure, with a few provisos.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Provisos! Limits, limitations,  _things I cannot do!_  FOR EXAMPLE!” the genie turned into an executioner. “I can’t kill anybody! Also,” here he turned into another woman, with thick, black hair, “I can’t make anybody fall in love with anyone else! And,” he turned into a corpse, “No resurrections! Dead people are dead! And finally, you only get THREE wishes,” he said, splitting into three selves. “No more than that! No switching wishes, no extra wishes, and absolutely NO REFUNDS!”  
  
“Wow.”  
  
“Indeed,” said the genie, looking a bit smug. “So, who am I working for? What’s your name, kid?”  
  
“Q-Q-Quasimodo,” he said.  
  
“So, Quasi – can I call you Quasi? – what’s your first wish?”  
  
Quasi ran his fingers through his hair. He had an idea, but Frollo… “Gee, I don’t know. What would you wish for?”  
  
The genie frowned. “Do you really wanna know?”  
  
“Oh, yes, I would.”  
  
The genie sighed. “What every genie wants, I guess.  _Freedom._  Make my  _own_  decisions, fulfill my  _own_  wishes… that would be  _paradise._  But it’s never gonna happen, so I might as well forget it.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“’Cause the only way I get out is if my master – that’s you – wishes it so. And who wants to have only two wishes? No one, that’s who.” He sat – or rather, floated – in a disgusted heap on the floor.  
  
Quasi sat down beside him. “I could wish you free. I really only have one wish.”  
  
“That’s a first.”  
  
“But if I wished it – he’d be so angry with me.”  
  
“Who would?”  
  
“My master, Frollo.”  
  
“Seems like I’m not the only one who’s trapped.”  
  
“Oh, no!” said Quasi, rushing to defend his master. “He’s a very kind man. He’s taken care of me since I was a baby! He keeps me up here for my own protection. I’m a monster, you see.”  
  
The genie frowned. “You’re a what?”  
  
“I’m a monster. Look at me! I’m deformed, and ugly, and, and, and a  _monster_.”  
  
“Quasi, I’m looking at you and I don’t see anything monsterlike. Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of monsters in this world.  _This_ is a monster,” he said as he changed into something with a lot of arms and teeth, “and Quasi, you most definitely are not one. Sure, you’re not a raging stud,” he changed to look like one of the new guardsmen, “but you are not a monster.”  
  
“But Frollo-”  
  
“Is he the guy who told you that?”  
  
“Yes, but-”  
  
“Then he’s stupid.”  
  
This had never occurred to Quasi before. He’d had it drummed into him that he was different, that he was wretched, that no one but Frollo could ever love anyone so hideous and horrifying. Now here was a man – a  _blue_  man – claiming that not only were his greatest dreams within reach, but Frollo was  _wrong_  about him. And if Frollo was wrong about him, maybe... maybe he was wrong about the rest of the world, too.  
  
In that moment, he almost turned back. He seriously considered taking the magical thing and turning it in to Frollo for exorcism. But then he heard the people below him. Here he was, spending his entire life watching instead of living, and now he was turning down his one chance at seeing what it would be truly like to live as one of them?  
  
And he wouldn’t be gone that long. He’d just see the festival, maybe admire some of the sights or – God forbid! – see a gypsy caravan, and then he’d go back.  
  
But he needed a way to prevent Frollo from recognizing him. And he knew just how to do that.  
  
“Uh, sir-"  
  
"Call me Genie, kid."  
  
"Genie, can you make me attractive?”  
  
Genie laughed. “Can I? Can I? The only question here, pal, is how much?”  
  
“Oh, well, not that much. Just… I want to look  _normal._ ”  
  
“Really?” asked Genie incredulously. “No rippling pectorals, no luscious locks, no frills, bells, or whistles?” Each statement was punctuated by more illusions.  
  
Quasi shook his head. “Nope.”  
  
Genie gave an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. “ _Fine._  One perfectly normal human coming right up!” He cracked his knuckles, wiggled his fingers, and blew a stream of sparks and smoke from his hands.


	2. Part the Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Belle meets Quasi, the plot thickens, and things begin to deviate from Disney canon more than they have already.

Quasi couldn't stop staring at his hands. They were so small, and so soft. Most of his bell-ringing callouses were gone, and… He snapped his fingers. He could  _hear._  He'd never been able to hear very well, surrounded by the noise of the bells as he was, but now...  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Ya know, Quasi, if you want to seem normal, you might want to try saying stuff other than 'wow.'"  
  
"Oh. Right."  
  
"And maybe with a few more syllables."  
  
"What-What do I look like?"  
  
Genie snapped his fingers and made a mirror appear. Quasi ran his hands over his face. He hadn't seen it often, only when Frollo wanted to remind him of why he needed to stay in his tower. Most of his idea of what he looked like came from touch – the lump over his eye, his squished nose, the way his hair parted in the middle. All of that was gone. He touched his new face with his new hands and almost wished himself back.  
  
"You look great, kid," said Genie, throwing an arm over his shoulders. "But you need a new wardrobe."  
  
He was right. His shoes were too big, and his shirt was comically huge, baring his chest and shoulders as it slid off his too-small frame.   
  
"Do I have to wish for that, too?" asked Quasi.  
  
"Well, see, that would be an interesting question," said Genie. He winked at him. "You asked me to make you look normal. And you certainly won't look normal with those clothes, will you? So, then, let's get cracking!"  
  


* * *

  


Five minutes and a lot of purple sparks later, Quasi was walking along the streets of Paris, dressed in the finest clothes he'd ever worn in his life. It was so strange, to be standing so close to people he'd only ever seen from a distance. There was the shepherd, who smelled of sheep if you were near enough, and the butcher, who had stains on his apron. Living so high up, Quasi had never breathed in flour with his air, or heard such outlandish music as the gypsies played. He spent an hour just wandering the different streets, and counted himself lucky that Genie was there, disguised as a puff of smoke, to keep him from getting lost. The world seemed so different when he was  _in_  it and not  _above_  it.

He crossed onto on of the main streets. If he looked up, he could see Notre Dame looming over him like a hovering mother. He was so busy staring at it, at  _home_ , that he didn’t notice that he was walking into someone until he – and she – were both on the ground.

“Oh, gosh,” he said, picking up his hat and wringing it in his hands. “I am so, so sorry, Miss-”

“Belle,” she said, smiling at him. “Don’t worry, I should have been watching where I was going, instead of reading.” She picked up her book off the ground and wiped it on her apron.

Quasi found himself –  _again_  – struck completely dumb. There was a girl – a  _pretty_  girl – who was not only talking to him, but smiling at him and not running away in fear.  _This is what happens when you’re not ugly,_  he realized.  _People smile at you and acknowledge you, instead of yelling at you for knocking things over or breaking things._  He smiled back. “No, really, it’s my fault. You, you were busy. I was just… admiring the sights. I don’t get out much.”

“No, really-” she started to say, but she stopped. He saw fear flicker over her face. For a moment, he thought he might have changed back, and was about to run, before he realized that she was looking behind him. He turned around to look, but all he saw were a some townspeople: a woman in a dirty apron, a tall man with dark hair, a few giggling tavern wenches, and a short, pudgy man with buckteeth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not quite bringing himself to touch her, as much as he wanted to.

“Come with me,” she said abruptly, grabbing his hand. Before he could even pause to wonder whether this was a good idea, whether she could be trusted or if he had any business following her, he was chasing after her, her hand firmly in his.

She pulled him into a side street, through a narrow corridor, down more than a few dark alleys, and then wove back and forth through a series of stalls until they were lost in the crush of people going to see the Festival of Fools.

When she finally stopped, Quasi was panting for breath. This new body wasn’t as sturdy as his old one. “W-w-why are we running?”

Her frown vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “No reason. I just wanted to see the festival. Come on!” She pulled him deeper into the crowd, where a group of gypsies were juggling geese.

Quasi shrugged inwardly. She was keeping a secret – and not keeping it well – but if she didn’t want to tell him, there had to be a good reason. It wasn’t his place to ask.

“So,” she said, pulling him from his thoughts, “I told you my name. What’s yours?”

“Ahh,” he said. He hadn’t thought about his name. Frollo had, when he was little, told him how his mother had abandoned him as a child, and how Frollo had given him a unique name, a name that was all his own, so he could be distinguished from all the lowly townsfolk. But now that unique name would instantly identify him. He rushed to think of a different one. “Ah, ah, Thomas. My name is Thomas.” He needed a surname. “Thomas du Clocher.”

“So, Thomas,” said Belle, slipping her arm through his, “Have you ever been to the Feast of Fools?’

“Oh, no, er, yes, well, I’ve seen it from a distance once or twice, but I’ve always been too busy – my master wouldn’t let me – no, no I haven’t.”

“Well, neither have I. Why don’t we see it together?”

Quasi grinned. “I would like that very much.”

“Wonderful!” She was smiling again, and Quasi reveled in the fact that she was smiling because of him. “Let’s go see the clowns!”

A picture of Frollo appeared in his head. His master was always talking about how gypsies ensnared the mind with their disgusting displays of merriment and vulgarity, how their dancing exaggerated the female form and inflamed all sorts of base humors and emotions. Quasi banished those thoughts. He was here, he was safe, and what Frollo didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Sure,” he said. He took her hand and let her lead him farther into the crowd.

* * *

  
Meanwhile, in the Palace of Justice, Frollo was hearing petitions.

“My lord,” said the merchant before him, “While my apprentice was buying new goods to sell, he was attacked by three men and robbed of his money, a sum of fifteen gold pieces.”

“Never fear,” said Frollo, “We will find whoever stole your money. I suspect that gypsies were the criminals who did this: they have done it before. Rest assured that your capital will be restored twice over.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said the merchant, bowing on his way out the door.

“Bring in the next one,” said Frollo to his guard. His next petitioner was a tall man, ruggedly handsome with long, black hair. His servant stood beside him. The man bowed low.

“My lord, I come to you with a sad tale. I come from a small village not too far from here. I married a year ago, but my wife, though beautiful, was not very bright, never wanting to submit to me, as is my right as her husband. Three months ago, she disappeared in the middle of the night, and I suspect that she joined a gypsy caravan to come here. I am willing to offer my services to you, if you would help me find her.”

Frollo eyed the man approvingly. He was strong, and moreover, he seemed malleable. He was a man who would follow orders if his ego was stroked enough. He smiled. 

“Of course, sir,” said Frollo. “I have been looking for a new captain of the guard since the last one, er, left my service abruptly. You seem perfect for the job. And your first assignment is to help me find the gypsies who stole your wife. I’ve heard that they have, if you will, a nest, a place where they shelter runaways and fugitives. I’m sure they are hiding your wife there. Find their hiding place,  _Captain_ , and I’m sure you’ll find your wife.”

“Yes, my lord,” said the man, snapping a sharp salute.  _As I suspected,_  thought Frollo.  _Malleable_.

“Tell me, Captain, what is your name?”

“My name is Gaston le Mauvaise,” said his new captain of the guard.

“And who shall we tell  _your_  soldiers to look for?”

“She’s, oh, perhaps this tall, her eyes and hair are brown, and, to be sure it is her, check her belongings. If she is carrying a book, you’ll have the right woman – she devotes herself to reading instead of normal womanly pursuits.”

“And her name?”

“Belle.”


	3. Part the Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author rips off Tangled, sees how far she can stretch UST, and turns up the heat to thicken the plot even more.

Quasi had never seen so many people – at least, not this close. He'd seen the crowds at Christmas and Easter Mass, of course, and sometimes the bishop would visit, but never so many people dressed so colorfully, and never so  _happy_  as they were today. That happiness seemed to be catching, and he found himself smiling more and more and he and Belle wandered around the square. Everywhere he went, there was something that he'd never seen before: fire-eaters who breathed fire in different colors; jugglers who passed swords between them as easily as scarves; people who walked on stilts and on tightropes; musicians who played such beautiful music that everyone around them started to dance.

It was at one of those stalls that Belle smiled at him again, as she'd been smiling all afternoon. "Dance with me?" she asked.

"Oh, I couldn't," said Quasi. "I've never-"

"Me neither," she said.

"Well, then," said Quasi, "We might as well try, right?"

She giggled. "Right."

They joined one of the circle dances, the kind with multiple partners passed back and forth. Quasi wasn't exactly sure how the steps went, but after a few turns, he managed. He passed from partner to partner with as much grace as could be expected for someone who had only just learned how to dance. And that was amazing in and of itself. He  _loved_  this body, without the clumsiness and heavy stepping of his old one.

The dancing got faster, and the partners broke out of the circle to dance with each other. Belle was in his arms again, her face flushed with exertion, and he spun her around as the whole party moved in a bigger circle. He held her close to him as they began a promenade, and he realized giddily that he could  _feel_  her: her warm hands in his, her hair escaping its pins to fall against his shoulder, her heartbeat against his shirt.

He spun her for the last time, and they ended the dance facing each other, sweaty and panting. He had the strangest urge to kiss her, and immediately squashed that idea. He barely knew her – he didn't even know her last name.

That didn't mean that she wasn't  _really_  pretty, though.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" cried a voice from the crowd. "Come one, come all! See the finest dancer – no, the finest  _girl_  – in all of France!"

Quasi shook himself. "Let's go!" he said, taking Belle's arm.

He and Belle made their way to the front of the crowd, where the visiting gypsies had made a stage. Their leader was still enticing any stragglers with promises of, "Mystery! Romance! Enchantment!"

"Witchcraft," droned a familiar voice.

Frollo. Of course. He'd been enjoying himself so much, he'd forgotten the danger of being here. Frollo was sitting in his designated shaded box, surrounded by his guards. He looked away hurriedly. _He can't see you. He won't recognize you. Nothing is going to happen,_  he told himself.

He didn't see Belle also looking anxiously at the box, and at the captain of the guard who sat on a black horse beside it.

"May I present: Danse la Esmeralda!" cried the gypsy on stage. He threw down some sort of powder, which exploded into a cloud of smoke. When the smoke cleared, the man was gone, replaced with a beautiful woman in a red dress.

A haunting theme began to play as she started to dance. She moved slowly and sensually at first, swaying her hips and looking lustfully at the crowd. She began moving faster, pulling a glittering scarf from around her waist and dancing with it. She swished her skirt seductively at one of the soldiers, who loosened his grip on his spear. She snatched the spear from his hand and danced with it, twirling it, tossing it from hand to hand, and finally embedding it in the wood of the stage and spinning around it.

The crowd cheered and whistled, though Frollo, whom Quasi was watching out of the corner of his eye, merely sighed and looked bored.

Their leader ran out onstange again. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the pièce de résistance! Now is the time to crown–" he paused dramatically "–the king of fools!"

The crowd cheered again, as various hopefuls for the position clambered onto the stage. One by one they were rejected, until, at last, one stood victorious – a balding man with warts on his face. Quasi watched as the man was crowned, robed, and carried to a scaffold, where he was thrown flowers and gold coins.

As the excitement wound down and the crowd began to disperse, Quasi began to get nervous. He'd seen the festival, he'd been normal for an afternoon, he'd fulfilled his dream, and now it was time to go home.

_He didn't want to._

He'd had a taste of what life could be like without Frollo or his ugliness to get in his way. He could live life every day like this. How could he give that up, when it was so tantalizingly close?

Belle tapped him gently on the arm. "I suppose you'll be going home now," she said, looking down.

Quasi made his decision. "Well, I don't  _have_  to," he said.  _What a lie._  "I mean, there's always the food stalls and the sword dancers and then there's the fireworks–" She put a finger to his lips. "W-whatever works for you, really."

She cast a glance in the direction of the guards, but seemed to make the same decision he had. "Alright. So, where should we go?"

The sunset found them laughing outside a tavern.

"That was so much fun, Thomas!" said Belle. "Thank you, for that. I haven't laughed that much in – in a while."

"Oh, well, it was nothing," said Quasi, the name sounding foreign to his ears. "Anyone would have–"

"No, they wouldn't have," Belle said firmly. "You're different. Thank you so much for being different."

Quasi started. Being different… that was a good thing? He'd been told time and time again that people hated anything that was different that what they were used to. Could Frollo have been wrong about that as well?

"Thank  _you_ ," he said. If he was going to remember tonight, he wanted her to remember it, too. "You… you're different, too. You're kind, and smart. You know so many words, and so many different stories. So, thank you. For being that."

"I have to go." Belle reached out her hand and touched his cheek, and then, very, very softly, kissed it. "Goodbye, Thomas."

"Bye." He waved to her as she walked towards the portcullis, then turned back around to go home.

A puff of smoke poured out of his pack and floated in front of him. "Way to go, lover boy!"

Quasi snorted. "'Lover boy'?"

"Of course!" said Genie, now dressed in a striped shirt and beret. "Ah, young loooove, how beautiful eet ees when eet ees new!"

"I don't even know her full name!"

"Ah, but," said Genie, now with a mustache and wrinkled forhead, "all dolls should be agreeable, with nice teeth and no last names. Besides," he said, turning back into himself, "you need to go home eventually."

"I know that Quasimodo does," he replied, "But Thomas du Clocher has nowhere to go."

"Well, I know an easy solution to that," said Genie. He donned a black hat and pointed to words on a slate that appeared in front of him. "Run–away–from–Frollo!"

"No, no," said Quasi. "I can't, I can't abandon the man who raised me. He took me in when no one else would. I need to change myself back."

"Who says you can't do both?" asked Genie. "Who says you have to let someone like that go?"

"And do what? Tell her I don't actually look like this? She'd never believe me. And even if she did, what then? I'm a freak. I'm ugly. She wouldn't want me if I changed back."

"I think you're projecting just a tad," said Genie, making himself look like Belle in Frollo's frock and hat.

"No, I–" Quasi looked at the setting sun. "Oh, no."

"What?"

"Vespers. Every night, before vespers – I'm late!" He started to run, thankful that his new body made him taller, with longer legs.

"Late for what?"

He skidded to a stop. A crowd had gathered outside the Palace of Justice, and Quasi had a feeling that it wasn't another juggler. Frollo stood on the still-erect stage, standing behind his new captain of the guard. The man cleared his throat, and began reading the piece of parchment in his hands.

"Citizens of Paris! Today, we seek to right a terrible wrong. For years, gypsies have run amok in this city and in this country, but now they have gone too far. Three months ago, they attacked a humble village and kidnapped a girl in the middle of the night, and still we did not act. We see now that this was a dreadful mistake. They have grown bold, and taken our lord Frollo's ward himself – Quasimodo, the bellringer of Notre Dame!"

A gasp rippled through the square.

"How dare they?"

"–from the church itself!"

"Under Frollo's protection!"

"That poor girl…"

"But," the man continued, "these actions shall not go unpunished. I, Gaston le Mauvaise, with the full might of the guard, shall find these vermin and bring them to the justice they deserve!"

A cheer rang throughout the crowd, though Quasi could see some shaking their heads.

"From this moment forward," said Gaston, "all gypsies are banished from Paris. Any gypsies found within the city limits will be arrested. Anyone found harboring a gypsy will be arrested. Anyone found giving aid to a gypsy will be arrested."

An approving murmur from the crowd.

"Furthermore, the city shall be closed and under martial law."

A confused murmur.

"The gates have been barred, and no one is to leave or enter the city. Curfew is set at sunset each day. The city shall remain in this state until the hostages have been found and released."

A growl from those gathered in the city, though they remained fixated on Gaston's every word.

He rolled up his scroll, and brandished it over his head. "This is war, and we shall take no chances!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Gaston has settled into Phoebus's role rather well, I think. Don't worry, you'll see him soon enough. Though not exactly as he was meant to be.


	4. Part the Fourth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some characters make a triumphant return, some things are explained, and some things are left painfully unresolved.

It took every ounce of willpower that Quasi had to keep himself from bolting out of the square. Stiffly, he turned and walked as calmly as he could towards the gates, lagging behind a group of gossips going the same way, only half-listening to their conversation. He was too worried about Belle. Had she managed to leave the city before the gates were barred?

"This is not the first time he's–"

"–always hated the gypsies, never–"

"–arrested for talk like this."

The group broke up, but Quasi walked faster. Genie appeared before him. "Hey, Quasi, what's wrong?" he asked, seeing the look on his face.

"Everything! Frollo thinks I've been kidnapped by gypsies, and now he has the entire guard out after them. Belle might be locked in the city without anywhere to stay, innocent people are going to get arrested for something that they didn't do, and it's all my fault! If I hadn't changed, none of this would have happened."

"Quasi, Quasi, Quasi," said Genie, floating upside down. "I think you need something of a change in perspective, you know what I mean? Look at it this way," he said, popping up behind him with his fingers in a rectangle. "If you hadn't changed, would you have met Belle?"

"No," said Quasi, "Of course not. But–"

"Nuh-uh, no buts. Let me finish.  _Before_  you changed, did Frollo like the gypsies?"

"No," said Quasi. He was starting to see where this was going. "He's wanted them out of Paris for years; he says they're evil. He's just never had…" he thought back to what he'd heard from the gossips. "He's never had a reason to go after them before."

"Did anything in your tower make it seem like there were gypsies there?"

"No! There was no evidence at all!"

"So it's not because he's looking for you, it's really because–"

"–he needed an excuse!"

"Which would have happened with or without your wish," said Genie with a satisfied smile. "So it's not your fault at all."

Quasi realized he was grinning. It was like his soul was lighter. Except he'd forgotten something yet again. "I still need to find Belle. She'll be–"

"Thomas!"

The shout came from farther down the street. He ran towards it as Genie disappeared again into the lamp. "Belle!"

Her hair was even more mussed than it had been when he'd left her, and there was a certain wildness in her eyes, but she was safe. Scared, but safe. "Are you alright? The guards–"

"I was worried you'd be trapped here–"

"I thought you wouldn't have a place to stay–"

They stopped, realizing they were interrupting each other. Laughing nervously, they hugged each other. Quasi blushed, thankful that the dark hid his face. He hadn't realized just how much he'd worried, or how much he wanted to hold on to her now that he'd found her.

She broke the embrace first. "So you  _are_  stuck here, then. I thought so."

"Oh, no, I'm not  _stuck_  here, I just–" He stopped. He wasn't Quasimodo, the bellringer of Notre Dame. He was Thomas du Clocher, apprenticed to someone outside of Paris. Quasimodo might be able to go home to his tower, but Thomas couldn't. "–don't have anywhere to stay," he finished weakly. That was technically true. He certainly couldn't go back to Notre Dame, and he had no way of making arrangements to stay somewhere.

Belle bit her lip. "I know a place," she said at last. "They… take people in, when they're needed, for no charge."

Quasi shrugged. "Alright, then, let's go–"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "It's not that simple." She lowered her voice, eyes darting around the now-empty street. "If we went there, you would have to  _promise_  not to go to the guards."

Quasi frowned. "Why?"

"They– we– it's hard to explain. Please, you have to promise."

"I promise," said Quasi.

Belle wrung her hands a bit before taking off her apron. She ripped a strip from it and handed it to him. "Put this over your eyes, please."

He tied the strip around his head. "How will I walk?"

He felt her arm encircle his. "I'll lead you. You'll be fine, just trust me."

He did trust her, for whatever foolish reason, and let her lead him through a maze of alleys and side streets. Twice she pulled him into a corner, and he could hear the crunching of boots on the street and the shrieks of townspeople as they were dragged from their homes. Finally, she pulled the blindfold off his face. "We're here."

They were standing outside some sort of inn. Belle knocked three times on the door, then two, then four. A section of the door slid open, and a husky female voice asked, "Who's there?"

"My friend and I in need of shelter," said Belle, in the stiff way someone recites a memorized phrase.

"We have no rooms empty," said the voice in the same manner.

"Please, let us in. Is it not written, 'Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be satisfied'?"

"Indeed," said the voice. "And blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven."

The door opened, revealing a darkened room. Belle and Quasi walked inside, and the door closed behind them. Quasi heard a flint and tinder being struck, and he turned to see a gypsy woman holding a candle. A gypsy?

The gypsy woman's face broke into a smile. "Belle!"

"Esmeralda!"

The two women hugged each other. Now that he'd had a moment to look, Quasi realized why she looked familiar – she was wearing a darker-colored skirt, and her gold tiara and bangles were gone, but she was definitely the dancer from the festival. Now he knew why Belle was afraid to show him there. If anyone discovered them, they'd be arrested for harboring gypsies.

"The guards are coming," said Belle frantically. "They're looking for–"

"I know," said a voice behind them. Its owner was a tall, muscular man, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He walked up to the gypsy – Esmeralda, Quasi reminded himself fiercely – and draped his cloak over a chair. "I came as quickly as I could." He took the candle from Esmeralda's hand, placed it on the table, and drew her to his chest. "I went to every house I could, trying to warn our friends, but I was too late for most of them. Frollo's using everything he has to find your people," he whispered into her hair. "He's searching every house, he's locked down the city, he's arresting people left and right– he's been waiting for an opportunity like this."

"We knew he'd try something," said Esmeralda in her exotic tones. "We just didn't think it would be so soon. If we had more time–"

"He's looking for me," said Belle.

They both looked and stared at her. "Don't blame yourself," said the man. "He doesn't even know–"

"Yes, he does," said Belle. "I saw, in the streets– he's hunting me!"

"Then we have to hide you," said Esmeralda. "You, and– your friend, here." She frowned disapprovingly.

"I'm sorry. This is my friend, Thomas. I know it was risky, but he doesn't have anywhere to stay, and we can trust him. I led him here blindfolded."

The man sighed. "It's too late to do anything about it, and one more fugitive won't hurt us, not now. Take this," he said, handing them the candle. "Go down the stairs to the cellar. Slide the barrels of 1470 Burgundy back towards the wall, then climb into the tunnel and slide them back – they're lighter than they look. We'll lead you through the tunnel system once we've gotten packed everything up and destroyed any evidence that we were here."

Belle took Quasi's hand and led him into the tunnel – a dark but surprisingly spacious chamber under the floor, revealed once he'd shoved the barrels out of the way and pulled them back over the hole once they were inside. Belle blew the candle out. "Don't want them to see the light."

Quasi decided that he'd been quiet long enough. "What did he mean, 'the others'? Why are the soldiers looking for you? How did you even know to come here?"

He heard a sigh in the darkness. "Esmeralda and Phoebus are part of the resistance."

"Resistance against who?"

"Frollo. He's supposed to protect the city from crime, but he's corrupted himself and his station by persecuting the gypsies."

"Why would they– why would  _he–_ "

"–help the gypsies when he himself is not one of them? He used to be the captain of Frollo's guard. Esmeralda was arrested about two years ago for stealing coins. She hadn't stolen them, and Phoebus could prove it. He  _saw_  her earning them, it should have been an easy case. But Frollo wouldn't listen. He was looking for an excuse, even then. He was going to burn her at the stake as an example."

Quasi sat in the dark, dumbstruck. He knew his master hated the gypsies, but to burn one of them alive for a crime she hadn't committed? That was beyond what he knew of him, beyond even what he'd learned in the past few hours. It couldn't be true!

"Phoebus… he fell in love with her. She was in prison for so long, while he argued her case for her, and they just… fell in love. But eventually Frollo decided that he was interfering too much with his plan, and spending too much time with his prisoner. He was going to execute him for insubordination."

"But he didn't."

"Oh, no, he was about to. But Phoebus and Esmeralda escaped. It wasn't easy – he almost died while they were riding away. Probably the only reason they were able to escape is because they thought he  _had_  died. They left Paris for a while, traveled with one of the caravans, got married, started a network of gypsies and sympathizers who thought, like they did, that Frollo was abusing his power… and that's when they met me."

"What happened?" asked Quasi. Things were starting to make sense to him– the fervor of the captain, the excuse to arrest the gypsies, Belle's fear when she'd first met him… something was missing.

"About a year ago, my father died. He left to go to the fair and… and he never came back." She sniffled loudly. "Everyone always thought that he was mad, and that I was, too. I loved to read so much… anyway, without him, I didn't have a man to protect me. I was…  _free._ " She said the word with such bitterness that Quasi flinched.

"The day after my father's funeral, Gaston came to my house. He gave me an ultimatum – either I would marry him, or he would accuse me of being a witch. And he could do it, too. He was so popular in our village. The people would have followed him on any journey, no matter how dangerous. All the girls adored him. Any one of them would have gladly married him. But he's a hunter. He liked the, the  _challenge_  of claiming the one person who didn't want him." She drew a shaky breath.

"So I married him. And he… he  _wanted_  me, all the time. If I resisted, he wouldn't let me sleep– he'd hold me down– I woke up one morning to find my favorite book in the fire, because I'd disobeyed him the night before. I hadn't– I hadn't told him how much I'd enjoyed it, like he'd told me to." She was crying now, her apron muffling her tears, and Quasi wasn't sure if she wanted to be touched just now.

"And so when the gypsies came, I ran. I asked them if they would take me on, until I was somewhere Gaston couldn't find me. I thought, if I could go far enough… but I didn't. He followed me here. He's working as the captain of the guard, I saw him. And now he's coming for me and I have to go back, but I can't, I can't–" and suddenly she was in his arms and she was crying and Quasi was holding on to her as hard as she was holding him.

He couldn't see her. He couldn't see a thing in this darkness. Carefully, so as not to scare her, he reached out a perfect, slender hand to touch her face. She flinched, but did not pull away. He moved his hand across what he couldn't see, wiping tears from her cheek, running a thumb gently under her closed eyes, brushing her forehead with trembling fingers, cupping her jaw softly in his palm–

There was a crash, followed by muffled shouting. Belle stiffened, pulling away from him. "Oh, God."

The sound of boots grew louder, the crashing sounds more frequent, and torchlight filtered through the cracks in the floorboards. There was a cracking noise as the floor itself was torn apart, exposing them.

Everything seemed to slow down.

One second, and Quasi saw Esmeralda, snarling and bucking mindlessly in the grip of four guardsmen, and Phoebus, already chained and bleeding from a cut on his neck.

Two seconds, and he saw a guard grab Belle by the hair. His grip on her broke as she screamed in pain.

Three seconds, and her hands were caught and shackled by a leering guard.

There was no time to think. Quasi turned and ran blindly into the darkness of the tunnel, the bag with the lamp thudding painfully against his thigh. Dimly he heard the guards shouting, but it was Belle's screams that followed him as he ran.


	5. Part the Fifth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some heroes are discovered, some heroes are remembered, and some villains are deliciously evil.

"Well, well, well," said Frollo.

Today was a good day. Already he had found a way to rid his city of vermin, as he had wanted for so many years. Now, not only had he found the key to his captain's loyalty – and what a _bewitching_  key it was – but… "If it isn't Captain Phoebus, back from the dead."

The gypsy chit spat at him. He pulled a white handkerchief from the sleeves of his robe and wiped it off. How barbaric, these gypsy heathens. "I should have guessed before. Your disappearance was a little too neat. The lack of a body should have been obvious. No matter." He allowed himself a smirk. "That will soon be remedied. And this time there will be no miracles."

* * *

Quasi was in a heap on the dirt floor, panting for breath. He'd run until he couldn't hear the guards, and then had kept running until he was sure they had given up. He'd lost himself in the tunnels, feeling blindly for a wall and following it until he had to turn. Now he was completely alone.

Well, not completely.

When he rubbed the lamp, Genie emerged… snoring, in a nightcap, clutching a cloth bear.

"Genie!" gasped Quasi.

Genie snorted. "Yeah, yeah, I'm awake, I'm awake– whoa." He drew out a hard yellow hat with a light fixed to the front. "Someone's been spelunking in my sleep."

"Genie, she's gone! They took Belle!"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Quasi. Who's taken her?"

"Frollo's men! They've probably taken her to the Palace of Justice, and who knows what they're doing to her, or Esmeralda, or, or Phoebus? What are we going to do?"

"What are  _we_  going to do?" said Genie. " _You_  are going to rescue her, of course!" He donned a suit of armor and wielded a conjured lance.

"Oh, yeah?" said Quasi. "How? I'm not a hero – I'm not even  _normal._  I'm a monster, just like Frollo said. I couldn't protect Belle when I had the chance. I  _ran away_ , Genie. Even if I wasn't a freak, I lost my chance to be a hero when I abandoned her."

"Quasi," said Genie. "There was this guy I knew, so many years ago. One of my old masters, actually. And let me tell you, he was something. Didn't look like much, just a poor boy off the street, spent more of his time stealing food than anything else. But you know what?"

"What?"

"He ended up being a hero. Now you're not the first one to say you'd free me – he was – but you  _are_  the first to say you only want one wish. Anyway, through a hilarious series of wacky hijinks, he ended up saving the kingdom from a guy almost as bad as Frollo. This little guy, same kind of kid you'd pass on the street begging for coins, he saved a kingdom from being ruled by a crazy sorcerer  _and_  got to marry a princess."

Genie sighed. "But he had to break his promise, in the end. It's what happens when your dad-in-law gets killed by a nutso magician and the only way to keep the line of succession going is to be a prince." A look of pain crossed his face. "And then I had to go – I can't stay in one spot very long. Couple of uses and I'm gone. I'd have loved to see the kids, you know? Found out later they'd revoked the marriage laws just for their little girl.

But my point is," said Genie, perking up a little, "that you don't have to be a fantastically awesome person to be a hero. You don't have to be attractive, or have magic powers, or even be brave one hundred percent of the time. You just have to find something you know in your heart is wrong, and fight against it as hard as you can. And if you mess up a few times, who cares? You tried, which is more than most people, believe it or not."

Quasi looked at his hands. They were fresh and new. So was he. He turned to Genie.

"Genie, I'm going to rescue Belle. I need to get there as fast as I can. Can you bring me to where she is?"

"As soon as you say the magic words!" said Genie, rubbing his palms together.

"Genie," said Quasimodo, "I wish for you to take me to where Belle is."

"You got it, pal!" said Genie, rolling up his sleeves and spewing sparks from his hands. "Bibbity… boppity…  _boo!_ " The sparks arranged themselves in the shape of a carriage, pulled by four winged horses. "Let's go, kid!" said Genie, hustling Quasi into the carriage and leaping onto the driver's seat. "We're going to go save the girl!"

* * *

"I think," said Frollo, with unrestrained glee, "that I'm not making things clear to you. Though what can I expect from a woman who who thinks herself a man, and a man who is a traitor, not only to his commanding officer, but to his sex and blood as well?" He cast an appraising gaze up and down the gypsy girl's body. "Frankly, my dear captain, I don't see why you bothered to betray me for something like this. Women like her tend to be…  _used._ "

A muffled growl was his only answer. He turned to his guards. "Which one of you decided to gag them?"

One man stepped forward, twitching his mustache nervously. "Eh, me, my lord Frollo. Corporal Chevalier."

"Return to your place,  _Lieutenant_  Chevalier."

" _Sir._ "

"As I was saying," said Frollo, "I think that you don't understand the true weight of your situation. Look out there." He gestured to the square below them, where soldiers were piling wood for stakes and erecting hasty gallows. "In a few more hours, my men will have found the rest of your brood. And once we've – ahem – asked them a few questions, they will die. And with the information they will give us, we can move out of Paris and wipe them out like the filth they are, once and for all."

The gypsy girl was staring at him with such intensity that a lesser man would have crossed himself for fear of the evil eye. But Frollo was no such man. He gestured to the guards. "Unfortunately, you burned any evidence of your activities. But, for every door God closes, a window is opened." The guards took off the gags. "And in this case," he said, with obvious delight, "you shall be the window. Lieutenant, take these two down to the Chamber of Correction. I want you to interrogate the captain. I'm sure his treachery is still fresh in his mind."

The girl's eyes narrowed. "You vicious–"

"Now, now," said Frollo. "I'd hate to gag you again. Guards, please take them both to the chamber. Let her watch. And Lieutenant," he said, "Take your time."

"Yes, sir."

As the two were dragged from the room, Frollo turned his gaze towards the other girl. Unlike the gypsy, she was both beautiful  _and_  pure. He circled her briefly, trailing a hand down her face, her curves, inhaling that faintest of womanly scents. "And who are you? A fellow conspirator?"

She pressed her lips together and said nothing.

"I could always  _make_  you talk," said Frollo, "But I see no reason to. Some women are better silent, the better to appreciate their beauty. You're far too pure to be debasing yourself with those pests. Why–"

"Belle!"

His new captain. Wonderful.

"Oh, Belle," said the man, slinging an arm around her waist, an exaggerated look of relief on his face. "You're safe! I've rescued you from those terrible gypsies–" the girl had the impudence to roll her eyes "–and now we can go back to our village and pick up where we left off!"

Inwardly, Frollo seethed, but outwardly he smiled through his teeth. A buffoon like that did not deserve a woman like her, any more than an ant deserved a rose.

"My dear Captain Gaston, I'm so glad you've returned."

"Sir," said Gaston, "I have carried out your orders. The gypsies we have found are in the cages. My men and I await for your orders to start the executions."

"Excellent," said Frollo. "Now, if you will–"

He stopped. An enormous carriage had just crashed through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And suddenly BADASS!QUASI. And now we know what happened to Aladdin, and why he couldn't free Genie. I really do think that Genie loved Aladdin, sort of like a son or a little brother. Poor guy.
> 
> A bit of explanation: moving the lamp into Quasi's timeline has completely messed up everything in the original Disney canon. This changed Aladdin's story, Belle's story, and of course Quasi's story. This is why Phoebus met Esmeralda earlier, and why Belle ended up with Gaston.


	6. Part the Sixth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which quite a lot of bad things happen, a story is ended, and a story begins.

Quasi stumbled out of the carriage. He hadn't really planned for much – maybe some guards. He could take guards. Though the only people in the room were Belle, the new captain, and–

"Master," he said without thinking.

Frollo started. His jaw dropped. "Who–" And then his eyes narrowed. "Quasimodo."

Quasi couldn't think of anything to say, and could only watch as the captain drew Belle closer to him.

"Your face…" said Frollo, peering at him. "You've been changed. Someone has changed you. With witchcraft!"

"No!" said Quasi.

"Yes!" said Frollo. "It all makes sense! Her unreal beauty, and yours – it's witchcraft! She has been casting spells!"

"No!"

"She's been  _using_  you, boy, don't you see? She ensnares men's hearts, like Gaston, like the gypsy girl – she's a witch!"

"N-n-no, it wasn't her!" Quasi babbled. "It was–" He stopped. He'd gone too far.

"What?" said Frollo, and suddenly his face arranged itself into a smile. "Quasimodo, tell me. It's not the girl, is it?"

"N-no," said Quasi.

"Quasimodo, clearly you're under the influence of some dark magic. You need to be purged of its power, and I, and I alone, know the cure."

"B-but–"

"Unless it  _is_  the girl," said Frollo. "What a pity, to see her burned as a witch when you could have saved her… unless you show me who truly did this to you. I can protect you from its retribution, Quasimodo. I can save you from the darkness of Hell." He put his hand on Quasi's shoulder, as he used to do when Quasi had a hump. "Tell me, boy. Tell me, and I will free her. I am a righteous man. I only want to see justice done."

That did it. If it meant Belle's freedom, Quasi would give up all the wishes in the world. His only regret was not granting Genie's wish, but Genie would understand. He reached into his bag to pull out the lamp, and gave it to Frollo.

"Now," said Frollo, "Let's see what sorcery this is." He turned the lamp over in his hands, peering at the faint carvings on its side. "What manner of incantation…" He rubbed the carvings with his cloak.

And Genie appeared. "Hey, Quasi, I just… oh. You're not…" He turned to look at Frollo. "Hi, nice to meet you, I'm–"

"Silence, demon!" said Frollo.

"Demon?" said Genie. "You could have at least gotten to know me before insulting me."

"Be silent! You have a new master now, demon! You are in the presence of God, and you will obey me!"

"Isn't that just a little hypo–" said Genie, turning into some sort of fat, purple animal, but Frollo's glare shut him up.

"What is your purpose, creature?" asked Frollo.

Genie looked like he wanted to remain silent, but his lips moved as if of their own accord. "I grant you three wishes. Any three wishes you want."

"And you gave my ward beauty?"

"…Yeah."

"Well, then," said Frollo. "My first wish, then, is to turn him back into the monster that he used to be!"

"No!" screamed Quasi. He couldn't go back, he couldn't, he couldn't, not with Belle there!

Genie covered his face with his hands. "I am so, so sorry, kid."

And then he was once again surrounded in smoke and sparks. And he felt it. He felt his spine contorting, his face twisting into abnormality, his limbs growing heavier and more muscled as he turned back.

He heard Belle's scream, and he knew she'd seen. He'd lied to her, he'd run from her, and now she saw him as he truly was – a monster no one could ever love. He sank to his knees, sobbing.

"There, now," said Frollo, unmoved. "What shall I do next? Oh, I know." He laughed bitterly. "For my second wish, I wish to have the ability to control objects." Genie sighed, looking at Quasi, then blew smoke over Frollo before disappearing back into the lamp.

"Now, Captain," said Frollo, "As pleased as I am with your work, you do have one small flaw."

"What?" asked Gaston, looking warily at Frollo from behind Belle.

"You're married." Gaston's belt knife leapt from its sheath. "And unfortunately, Captain Gaston, that puts you in my way." The knife buried itself in Gaston's abdomen. "I'm sure you understand."

Gaston sank to the floor, clutching the dagger in his hand. His eyes remained open in shock and horror long after the light was gone from them.

Frollo ran to the broken window, glass crunching under his feet as he surveyed the square below him. "At last, I can rule Paris as it is meant to be ruled!" Ropes from the gallows flew from their posts to strangle the prisoners– carts moved on their own towards stakes that were lighting themselves – swords freed themselves from outstretched hands to skewer guards and gypsies alike. "Now I can do as God commands! No! I  _am_  a god, with all the powers of one!"

He laughed again, madly, as tall candelabra stands twisted around Quasi's arms and pinned him to the wall. Quasi cried out in pain as he was slammed onto the cold stones.

"But," said Frollo, "A god requires a goddess to stand beside him." He turned to Belle. "Join me, as my wife, and we shall create a new Paris from the ashes of the old." He ran a finger along the curve of her jaw. She turned away from him as far as her bonds would allow, to look at Quasi, who refused to meet her eyes.

"How dare you, girl? Look at me! Don't look at that – that  _monster!_ " He grabbed her chin and forced her face towards him.

She glared at him. "You torture and kill people in cold blood. I may not have known him, or you, for very long, but I know who I'm in love with between the two of you. There is only  _one_  monster in this room, and it is  _certainly_  not him!"

"Witch!" Frollo felt for the lamp and rubbed it. Genie appeared. "Demon, for my last wish, I wish for this woman to fall in love with me!"

"Er, sorry," said Genie, "But I can't do that."

" _What?_ "

"I can't make anyone fall in love with anyone else. It's against the rules. No love, no death, no zombies – them's the rules."

"You  _wretch!_ " shrieked Frollo. "I don't need you! I'll take her by force if I have to!" Grabbing Belle by the throat, he threw her to the ground, cracking her head painfully against the stone floor. Blood pooled beneath her as Frollo started to lift her skirts.

"No!" cried Quasi. He couldn't let that happen to her. He loved her, and she him, and Frollo was – Quasi strained against the metal, feeling his returned strength course through his veins, his muscles, bending the weakening metal – he was free. Frollo turned towards the noise of metal on stone, but Quasi was already upon him, Frollo's neck cradled in one massive arm, the other lifting him bodily off the ground, away from Belle. "Don't – you – touch – her." Frollo went rigid in his ward's arms. Even if he tried to use an object to kill Quasimodo, he would never be able to move it before his neck was snapped. "Don't touch her," repeated Quasi. "Leave here. Leave Paris. Stay away."

Frollo gulped audibly. "I will," said Frollo, for once feeling the fear he inspired in others. "God will reward you for your mercy."

"This is not for God's mercy," said Quasi. "You raised me."

With that, he released Frollo, scooping up the lamp and Belle's body before leaping out the open window, to get to the street, and then to his tower. He did not see Frollo go.

* * *

He placed Belle on his cot, lighting candles around her. She wasn't waking up. Her chest rose and fell, but her eyes refused to open. He rubbed the lamp, and Genie appeared as he always did.

"It's not good, Quasi," Genie said after a moment. "This isn't something that could heal on its own. I mean, couple hundred years from now, sure, but now? That's wishing territory, Quasi."

"I'm s-s-sorry," said Quasi, staring at Belle. "I know how much you wanted… I'm sorry."

"Eh," said Genie, shrugging his shoulders. "Love like this doesn't come every day, you know. You're not the first one to be pushed into a third wish, Quasi, and maybe someday I'll find someone who'll free me down the line."

"I'm sorry," Quasi said again. "Genie, I wish that Belle were healed."

Genie blew a soft purple fog over Belle's sleeping form, and as she breathed it in, her cheeks became ruddier and her face became softer, without pain. Her eyelids fluttered, though they stayed closed.

"Thank you," said Quasi, as Genie sank back into the lamp. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his side.

"And thank  _you_ ," said Frollo, bloodied sword in hand.

Quasi wheeled around. "M-m-master, what–"

"You strayed from my path, Quasimodo," said Frollo. "He that spareth his son hateth his son: but he that loveth him chathenth him betimes." Quasi barely had time to duck out of the way before the sword swung again, this time at his neck, and he scrabbled out of reach to the open doorway. Below him, at the foot of the cathedral, fires burned in carts, in clothing, and in bodies. Smoke rose thickly, until the air around the cathedral was almost totally obscured.

"I should have known," said Frollo, "That you would turn against me. Vermin beget vermin. Evil begets evil. I should have killed you when I had the chance, just as I did your mother!"

"What?"

"You mother was a demon who bred demons! I would have put an end to your suffering and your evil, but you were saved by that interfering archdeacon! But God has granted me another chance! Now I have the power!" The sword flew of its own accord to stab Quasi again, and he stumbled backwards onto the balcony. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil!"

This time Frollo called the blade to his hand, and climbed onto the balcony railing to stand over Quasimodo as he stabbed him for the third time. The blow sank into Quasi's flesh. And yet, somehow, he found the strength to stand. As he rose to his feet, Frollo, who was still holding the sword, moved backwards, the movement throwing off his balance. To Quasi's horror, Frollo took one step back, and then another, then teetered on the edge of the balcony before falling backwards off the railing.

"Master!" He was still there, clinging to a gargoyle. For one horrifying moment, Quasi considered letting him die. But he couldn't. He still felt like he owed Frollo for raising him, yes, but it was more than that. He couldn't allow himself to become like Frollo. He had to save him.

"Master!" said Quasi. "Take my hand!" He reached a hand down to his fallen master.

Frollo reached out to his clothes with his mind even as he reached out to Quasi's hand, but as he tried to mentally raise them, he felt how challenging it was, how heavy clothing was with a man in it. There was a loud cracking noise.

The gargoyle.

And in the moment before he died, Frollo looked into the fires below him and, for the second time in his life, he felt the eyes of Notre Dame gazing into his soul as he fell into his own hell.

"Thomas!" said a voice from the doorway. It was Belle, carrying the lamp. She ran to Quasi, who shuddered weakly on the flagstones. He had lost a lot of blood, and one of Frollo's blows had punctured his lung.

"Thomas?" She knelt beside him. "Or is it Quasimodo?" She laughed weakly, a tear running down her face.

Quasi grinned. "Just Q-Q-Quasi." He wiped the tear away with his hand, his old hand, the one roughened and callused from bellringing. It was too large, and seemed ugly next to her beauty. But it was his hand.

He heard a faint roaring in his ears. Everything was getting darker.  _Well,_  he thought,  _At least I know she's alive._  His vision faded. The last thing he saw before the roaring overtook him was Belle's face.

* * *

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Belle's face.

"W-W-What? What happened?"

Belle grinned and waved the lamp at him. "You're not the only one who can use wishes, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, you're very smart," said Genie, who was leaning against a wall. "Don't cut it so close next time, I don't do zombies." Quasi tried to stand up, shakily. Belle fit her shoulder under his arm to stable him, and he leaned on her. "Don't move so fast, kid, healings like that take a bit to kick in."

Belle looked out over the city of Paris. "My second wish," she said, "Is to undo all of Frollo's damage. Gypsies need to be accepted here, and everyone who is alive must be healed, and everyone who is held prisoner unjustly has to be set free."

"That's a long wish," said Genie, "But under the circumstances…" And sparks flew over the fires and healed the burned. And somewhere, in the dungeons of the Palace of Justice, doors opened, and men and women left the building in a flood of faces.

Genie smiled. "You got a third wish?"

Belle bit her lip. "Well, since Thom– _Quasi_  wasted a wish to try and save me–"

"–it wasn't a w-w-waste–"

"–I thought I'd give him one of mine." She turned to the man currently sagging against her shoulder. "If you want it."

"I…" Quasi looked at his hands again. His old hands, calloused and hard. He ran his fingers through his hair – his familiar hair, that fell over his eyes just as it always had. He wasn't normal, and never would be without magic.

He whispered in Belle's ear. Belle smiled.

"Genie," said Belle, "I wish you free."

"One world-class makeovahwah? What did you say?"

"Genie," said Quasi, in a clear voice without stuttering, "You are free."

And with those words, the lamp began to rise. Smoke and sparks billowed around Genie's form as his manacles unlocked themselves and vanished. The lamp fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Oh, my stars," said Genie. "I'm free. I can't believe this – I'm free – I  _won't_  believe it – quick, wish for something! Wish for magic talking gargoyles!"

"I wish for magic talking gargoyles?" said Belle.

"NO WAY!" Genie yelled. "I'm free! I'm so happy I'm beside myself!" He directed this last remark to a duplicate of himself. "I'm going to see the world, maybe go back in time, see Al's kids – I have to meet the kids! – and–" He turned to Quasi and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll miss you, kid."

"I'll miss you, too," said Quasi. "Maybe… come back once? Now that you're free?"

"'Course I will," said Genie. "Although…" He looked pointedly in Belle's direction. "I think I'll leave you two alone for now."

And with a thunderclap, he was gone. Belle and Quasi were alone.

"Belle," said Quasi haltingly, "I'm s-s-sorry, it's just that I promised him–"

" _Quasimodo,_ " Belle interrupted, "I know who I'm in love with, and it's not your face. I'm in love with the sweet, gentle man who was willing to risk his life to rescue me, not the body he happened to be in at the time. I love  _you._ "

And with that, she took his face in her hands, and brought his lips to hers.

Somewhere in the clouds, a flock of birds flew over Paris. They did not look down, but if they had, they would have seen two figures embracing on the tower balcony, and two more embracing in the street, both couples clinging to each other as if one might disappear. When they returned in the spring, they flew again over the city. If they had looked down then, they would have seen two figures in white, surrounded by showers of flower petals. And perhaps, after many years, they might have heard the laughter of children mingled with the ringing of the bells.

But that is a story for another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the story, folks! When I started writing this, I started picturing it like an actual Disney movie. Thus, here is an idea of the script, if the ending had been in movie format.
> 
> [background music: "Into the Light" from Hunchback of Notre Dame] As Belle kisses Quasi, the scene changes, until they are again kissing outside the cathedral doors on their wedding day. They are dressed in white and surrounded by flower petals. The bells are ringing in the background. Cut to: Phoebus and Esmeralda, in front of crowd, similarly dressed, smiling at each other. Cut to: Belle and Quasi, who look at each other lovingly, then look up to see a flock of birds flying overhead. The camera pans to follow the birds. As the birds disappear into the sun, the words THE END appear as the chorus sings the final notes.


End file.
